Life Intervenes
by Wahoogal06
Summary: Little vignettes chronicling the years between the events in "Consequences" and what's to come in "A Most Precious Gift". We'd all like to think things would settle down for our favorite duo but life isn't always so kind... Story #3 of 5.
1. Chapter 1

**Rest in Peace**

_**Suburbs of Metropolis,**_** May 12, 2013, 12:45 pm. **"Sam! Don't forget we're going over to Lois' house tonight to have dinner with her and Clark and the kids! I already put the clean shirt out on the bed that I want you to wear."

"Hmph," the retired general snorted. "I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself, thank you very much!"

Her laughter flowed down out of the kitchen, following him as he meandered toward the den. "That may be true, Dear, but I'm betting you already forgot about the dinner plans with Lois, didn't you?"

Sam Lane stopped in his tracks, one hand on the door frame, and stared back in the direction of the kitchen, thoroughly startled. "How did you…?"

"I know _you_, Sam; that's all I needed to know."

He shook his head to clear the cobwebs out and chuckled. _Forty years of marriage and my Ella's still surprising me… _"I'll be reading the paper until the game comes on if you need me," he hollered back, stepping into the living room.

"I always need you," she whispered, smiling.

****

Ella stood at the sink, rinsing off the last of the lunch dishes and listening as Sam settled himself down in the den. Even though he said he was 'reading' she knew better; all it took was fifteen minutes in a chair, no matter where he was, for her seventy-three year old husband to fall asleep. A quick glance up at the clock told her she'd have roughly two hours to get her dessert done for Lois' house before she'd have to go in there and shake him awake, or Heaven help whoever lets Sam sleep through a Metropolis Meteors baseball game.

****

**2:35 pm. **"Sam? Sam, it's time to wake up, you're missing the game." The newspaper slid down his chest and onto the floor as she gently but persistently shook his shoulder; still, he didn't budge. "Sam…?"

****

**3:10 pm. **Lois stood in the doorway to the apartment struggling to get the key out of the lock while balancing a bag of last-minute groceries on her hip; all the while her intrepid four year old tried using what minute amount of super strength she had to extricate herself from her mother's grip.

"I want to go play!" the little girl whined as she yanked yet again.

"Haley, I said I will let you go in ONE MINUTE!" the exasperated mother cried out, finally dislodging the key. With an angry kick behind her Lois slammed the door shut and finally let go of her daughter who went scampering down the hall. It had been a trying trip to the supermarket with her high spirited little girl, and had it not been for the bread crumbs she so desperately needed for the evening meal Lois wasn't sure she'd have attempted it at all. She thought about calling Clark to see if he could swoop in and pick up the groceries but decided against it; she even briefly considered simply calling the family dinner off but knew her mother would never let her hear the end of it if she did.

As she stumbled into the kitchen she found a note waiting for her on the counter:

_Busy day, duty calls, hope to be back soon. Love you! ~Clark_

Lois heaved a sigh as she set the note back down alongside the bag of groceries. _It figures…_

She blew the hair out of her face and began pulling the food out when the telephone rang.

"Hello?"

"Lois? Lois, I tried to wake him up but I couldn't…"

Hearing her mother cry on the other end of the line set Lois' heart racing. "Mom? Mom, calm down, tell me what's wrong. Who wouldn't wake up? Where are you? Where's Dad?"

"He wouldn't wake up." It was clear that Ella was in shock and Lois resisted the urge to demand a more coherent answer, instead biding her time for her mother to recover her wits. "Your father, he wouldn't get up after his nap so I called 9-1-1…they said he was already gone. My Sam is gone…"

The young woman's face went slack. "Gone?"

"The doctors say he went in his sleep…" Neither woman spoke, and even if Ella had said anything more it would've fallen on deaf ears. The realization that her father had passed away that very afternoon, possibly at the very moment she was griping about her parents while dragging Haley down the condiment aisle, struck Lois dumb with grief. Slowly, painfully slowly, she lifted her hand up and placed the phone back in the receiver, then turned toward the hall. She didn't even finish unpacking the groceries, just wandered around the apartment in a daze until she reached the bathroom and pulled herself inside, locking the door behind her.

Her relationship with her father had always been difficult, notoriously difficult, but things had improved somewhat in the last decade or so. Still, even in death Lois found herself sorting through all the baggage that had accumulated between her and her father over the course of the last thirty-eight years. Now, knowing that it was baggage that would forever remain unchecked unhinged her and she sank down along the back of the door, colliding with the tile floor in hysterical sobs until she folded herself over in two in grief.

Haley heard her mother's cries and ceased her make believe game. Setting the dolls aside, she moved down the hall in slow, deliberate steps, one hand trailing idly along the wall.

"Mommy?" she asked worriedly, standing in front of the door. Lois' cries quieted down but did not cease. "Mommy?"

****

**4:19 pm. **Clark re-entered the apartment through the living room window still covered in a fine layer of ash, and instantly recognized that something was wrong. He heard Haley calling to Lois from within the apartment and did a quick x-ray sweep to find his wife standing hunched over the sink splashing water on her face, her breath hitching in her throat as she struggled to re-gain control over her emotions. He reached the doorway at the same time she opened it and immediately caught sight of her red-rimmed eyes.

"What is it, what's happened? Are you hurt?"

"No," she replied, waving him off and trying to push past him to return to the kitchen. "No, I'm not hurt."

He took hold of her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "Then tell me what's wrong."

She stared back with her piercing hazel gaze all the while taking a deep breath to steady herself before she spoke the words aloud. "Clark, I…my…my mother called while you were out. My father died this afternoon; she said he passed away in his sleep."

The widening of his eyes and the slight increase in pressure in his hold were the only outward indicators that he'd even heard the news. A split second later he pulled her to him and held her there, recognizing the grief for a parent lost, while she tensed up in his arms and recoiled from his touch. "Lois, I'm so sorry," he whispered into her ear.

She squirmed out of his grip and began walking away from him. "I'm alright _now_. What I need to do is start making the arrangements; call the Base, see what the protocol is, find out if Mom is back at the house or not and where the hospital's taken the body…"

"You don't have to do that right now." Clark reached out to take hold of her wrist and she pulled back from him again, continuing on her way.

"Yes, _I do_," she hissed. Turning her back on him she headed toward the living room where she could get some work done.

Sensing that there wasn't anything else she _would_ let him do at that moment, Clark turned and scooped up his daughter in his arms, hugging her and holding her close in light of her recent loss.

"Why was Mommy crying, Daddy?" she asked softly while he rubbed her back.

His ears perked up as Lois began conversing on the phone with one of the General's old Army buddies, informing him of the loss. With a resigned sigh he decided he needed to collect Jason from his friend's house and then break the news to both children simultaneously. "Let's go pick up your brother from Alex's and then I'll explain," he replied, setting her back down on the ground.

"Ok."

****

_**National Veterans Cemetery, Metropolis, **_**May 15, 2013. **Lois stood beside the open grave in her simple black dress, the mid-May breeze indicative of an early summer storm now blowing at her skirt and pulling her hair in front of her red and inflamed eyes and obscuring her view of the casket below; the casket where her father lay, now and for all eternity.

Clark trudged back up the hill after seeing his mother-in-law, sister-in-law, mother and children escorted back into the waiting limo. He insisted that they all go on back to the house to receive the numerous guests, telling them that he and Lois would catch up to them in a cab when they were ready. Ella, momentarily shaken from her reverie by his words, was about to protest when Martha placed a tender, reassuring hand on the bereft woman's knee and called out for the driver to move on before she could say anything further.

And now the three of them were alone; two above ground, and one below.

He looked up and caught sight of his wife standing there stoically, a proud black pillar against the looming Metropolis landscape in the far background. She'd been unusually reserved and curt with him these last three days, yet he knew that under her steely facade a storm was brewing. Lois was feeling the loss deeper then she was currently letting on, and all he could do was wait for the dam to burst and be there to comfort her whenever she was ready to receive it.

He walked up behind her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, the nearness and warmth of his body serving to drive away the slight chill in the air. Sam's death had caught them all unawares, Lois most of all. It had been peaceful. Quiet. Too quiet a passing for a man as distinguished as General Samuel T. Lane.

The pomp surrounding his funeral was anything but quiet, and by Clark's estimation nearly all of Fort Jenkins had turned out for the wake and ensuing funeral mass to pay their last respects and give their condolences to his family. There had also been a nineteen gun salute, the deafening boom of which had made Haley cry for more than simply her late-grandfather.

But Lois...Lois hadn't cried once that day. Not since first learning the terrible news did she shed a single tear, and Clark was beginning to worry. She was like a General all her own, coordinating the wake and funeral mass with the Army officials, informing old friends and acquaintances scattered across the country of her father's passing, tending to her bereft mother and sister and making sure they took care of themselves and remembered to eat and sleep. Lois had given herself an hour to grieve and that had been that—afterward life simply went on.

Only now Clark found her rooted to the spot beside Sam's gravesite staring down at the black lacquered casket strewn with a few handfuls of dirt and flowers on top, and he could only wait for her next move. Tense, inexplicably painful and emotionally charged moments were the ones where he wished mind-reading was, in fact, one of his powers.

Almost twenty minutes went by before she spoke, and only then in the quietest of voices. "He was a hard man," she said slowly, drawing out each syllable as she went. "He was a task master most of the time. Everything always had to be perfect, everything always had to be neat and to his exacting standards. I used to hate them for that, hate the Army for what they made of him, until I found out that not all Army dads were like mine. They may have worn the same fatigues and gone out on the same maneuvers but other fathers would come home and smile, would roll around in the front yard and play with their children…but not mine.

"And so for a long time I just hated Sam, just as I suspect he hated me and Lucy for being girls—traits that neither of the three of us could have helped."

She stopped and turned around, placing her hands on Clark's broad chest, the alabaster skin of her palms standing in dark contrast to the crisp, black material of his suit jacket. "But I didn't really _hate_ him, Clark, not really. I loved him but I never understood him...and now it's too late to tell him! It's too late and I'm a horrible daughter and..." Lois flung herself at his chest then and gave way to the tears she'd been choking down for the last three and a half days while her husband held her tight as she cried.

"It's never too late," he said softly, his lips barely grazing the top of her head. "I tell my father all the time; I like to think that he's always listening, always watching, and I know that Sam is too." He paused a moment to gauge her reaction but none was forthcoming.

"Tell him, Lo. Tell him what he meant to you."

Lois looked up dubiously into Clark's face only to see him staring back at her in earnest. She rested her head against his chest while taking several deep breaths to steady her shaky voice, even as her eyes continued to mist over with fresh tears and blur the landscape around her.

"I loved you, Dad. I loved you so much. I'm sorry things weren't easier between us." Pausing a moment, she gauged the air of the space around her before adding, "Good-bye."

The gray stormy sky opened up ever so briefly, allowing a small sliver of light through and sending it bouncing off the edge of one of the faraway city skyscrapers. The sun bounced off the ever-clean windows and proceeded to blind her with it's brilliance. Lois knew that it was Sam, knew that in his way he was saying his good-byes, apologies and I love you's too.

Tugging on the lapel of Clark's coat she motioned upward at the sky with her eyes. In one fell swoop he scooped her up in his arms and took off for her childhood home with her mourning the entire way.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Successor**

_**Daily Planet, Metropolis, **_**October 10, 2013. **The Editor-in-Chief stood in the privacy of his office, surreptitiously studying his employees through the slats in the drawn wooden blinds. _They look like a bunch of pea-brained hens,_ he muttered to himself lamentably, watching them as they worked. Ralph and Gil were hovering around the water cooler yet again, Polly from the society pages was trying to seduce the newest copy boy, Jim was polishing the third of his many long range lenses for his newest camera...and then, in the middle of the clucking din, stood Lois and Clark.

His golden couple. His brain children. The ones who, according to the jealous office gossips, could do no wrong even when they _did_ do wrong.

Perry smirked when he thought about that; for once, the gossips were right. Together, Lois and Clark could do no wrong. Unlike the rest of the journalists aimlessly running about, Lois and Clark possessed both the _talent_ and _drive_ that brought him and the paper some of the biggest stories of the century. She had the knack for sniffing out the juiciest stories and drive for finding the facts; he had the grammatical sense to make it all work and a head for pulling her out of some truly hairy situations. They didn't know it of course, but their work also single-handedly saved the _Planet _at a time when the digital age was threatening to make print media extinct. Subscribers clamored for Lane-Kent and Kent, demanded it even, and circulation rose to such numbers as to ensure that the paper would continue to publish for another ten or fifteen years, at least.

Which was why the ultimatum that the Board handed down to him two weeks ago just about broke poor Perry's heart—_as if last year's heart attack hadn't already done __enough__ damage_. At 75 years of age he knew was no spring chicken but he was committed to running the _Planet_ for as long as he was fit for duty. However, the Board, in their infinite wisdom, didn't see the situation quite the same way; either he start grooming a successor immediately or be forced into retirement where they could hire someone _for_ him, whether he liked it or not.

_Retirement?_ He scoffed at the very idea. There were still a good number of years left in his body and his brain and he was going to spend them at the only place that ever felt like home, right there in the bullpen. But that conviction brought with it another dilemma—who to name as his heir apparent.

Perry swallowed down the lump that grew in his throat each time he thought about it, half-wishing that Gil had broken out of Ralph's shadow, lived up to his potential, and thereby made things significantly easier now for the Editor-in-Chief.

It had been a rough two weeks and everyone close to the Chief knew he was distracted but only Barbara, his personal assistant, suspected why after pulling a small array of personnel files for him at his request. A loyal soul, she never betrayed a hint to anyone—not even to Lois, who spent more than an hour one afternoon heckling, badgering, cajoling, belittling and ultimately trying to _bribe _her. In the end it was all for naught; Lois was unsuccessful.

An indignant shriek from the center of the room reclaimed Perry's thoughts just then, and he looked out to see Lois' cheeks flush crimson at something Clark had said; but no more than a split second later and she was raging on at her husband as he leaned casually against the edge of the desk behind him, a draft of their latest work in his hands. The younger man appeared calm, even in the face of his wife's wrath, which struck the lifelong bachelor as peculiar but not altogether unnaturally strange. Perry had never been keen on inter-office marriages as he was of the thought that they were bad for business, but the passion and chemistry those two brought to their work translated well into their home life too, and they made it work. It was one of the few unions he approved of wholeheartedly and that he knew (in an age of divorce) would last. He turned his attention back to the pair and now saw Lois wagging her finger at Clark, saying something to make _him_ blush before he too became a tad defensive.

A few other people milling about nearby stopped to watch them; not that seeing Lois and Clark argue was a rarity (it wasn't) but their sparring matches were never dull.

The pang of disappointment stabbed him yet again over the choice he'd been forced to make. He hated breaking up his favorite couple but there was no other way about it; the Board had put him in a damned Catch-22. "I hate getting old," he muttered under his breath, dropping the blinds and meandering back over to his desk chair.

"One more day—I can get away with waiting one more day before I have to tell her, then God help us all...even the Board of Directors." He paused, picturing the chaos that would erupt at the end of tomorrow's morning meeting while letting out a soft chuckle and shake of his head. "She'll be floating on Cloud Nine, that's for sure. And she'll never let any of us hear the end of it."

An odd smirk crossed his face as he sat down, prepared to shuffle some paperwork before him and get back to business. _Then again…the Board never said anything about me retiring __after__ I chose a successor either…_

* * *

Lois was still running on about the paragraph he'd cut out of the draft of their latest piece—without even consulting her first, she reminded him for the fourth time—when she saw Clark quirk his head and suddenly stare very intently at Perry's office. For a moment her heart leapt into her throat and prevented her from speaking, but when she recovered she asked in a low and grave whisper, "What is it? Did he have another heart attack? Oh God..."

"No, it's not that," came Clark's swift reply. "He's alright, he's just talking to himself again." Ever since the Chief's collapse a year earlier and Sam's sudden passing last Spring they'd both taken to keeping a closer eye on Perry; Lois even more so in light of her father's untimely death and the unresolved issues between them. Even with all the ribbing they gave each other she loved Perry like a father and wanted no repeat of scenes from last May.

She quit arguing with her husband and moved around so that they were both leaning against the desk, staring at the drawn blinds of Perry's office. "Whatever's on his mind I hope he has out with it soon—all the extra stress isn't good for him."

"It sounds like he's planning on getting it off his chest tomorrow. He said something about telling her, than God help everyone, even the Board."

Her jaw dropped. "He actually said that?" she asked incredulously, whispering 'God help the Board' to herself and grimacing. "The man who curses their names aloud every hour of the day honestly said 'God help them'?" Lois let an ominous sigh escape as Clark nodded his head. Nothing good could come of whatever announcement he had to make if it left him pitying the Board. She leaned against her husband for support and he automatically lifted his arm up to receive her, draping it around her shoulder and pulling her tighter into his embrace.

"God help us is right," he replied.


	3. Chapter 3

**Aversion**

_**Metropolis General Hospital, **_**December 2, 2013. **A seven month's pregnant Chloe eased herself into the back of the taxi cab, her winter coat bundled tightly around her burgeoning frame. She slowly slid over to the far seat so her husband standing on the curb could get in beside her. Tommy and Abby had just been dropped off for an evening play date with their cousins, the Kents, while she and Jim went to a Lamaze class.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked, glancing at the couple through his rearview mirror as he heard the passenger door close.

"Metropolis General, please," she answered calmly, tugging the gloves from her hands one finger at a time.

Jim stared at his wife in horrified shock. "I thought we were going to Lamaze class at the Community Center? You're not going into labor already, are you?!" The driver's head whipped around in alarm, worried that he was to become an impromptu ambulance.

"Relax, Jim, no one's going into labor here. The Lamaze class just happens to be held at Met. Gen. this time around, that's all." She gave a nod to the driver who sighed in relief as he eased out into the flow of traffic outside Lois and Clark's apartment, headed toward the hospital.

"You should've told me," he grumbled miserably. Jim leaned his elbow on the door and propped his head in his hand as he studied the passing scenery of apartments and businesses. She snaked a hand over the leather seat and intertwined her fingers with his.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He remained silent, and in the dim light from passing street lamps she thought she saw the faint hint of a scowl on her husband's normally cheery face. "You know, this isn't going to be our first—or our last—trip to the hospital, Jim. What are you going to do when this little one is born? Or, Heaven forbid, what if one of the kids ever seriously injures themselves and gets rushed to the ER? Am I going to have to call Clark every time there's an emergency because you just can't bring yourself to walk through those hospital doors?"

"No," he replied rather petulantly.

"So what happened?" Jim still refused to speak and Chloe prodded him just a little bit further by adding, "Talking about it is the only way you're going to get past it…"

"Ok, ok, just give me a second here." He looked away from the window and caught her intense green gaze, instantly melting from the compassion he found there. "It's all rather embarrassing, really," he began, recalling events from nearly twenty years before.

****

"It happened back in 1994, before Perry had hired me on to the _Planet_ full-time. I was nineteen and still living at the YMCA, scraping by and trying to make ends meet by working part-time at that Kiddie Photo Center over on Ashby; anyhow, that summer I was doing the copy boy thing when the interns were brought in…"

"There was a girl," Chloe broke in, sensing intuitively where her husband's story was headed. Her voice was tinged with surprise at the revelation, even though she knew full well that Jim had dated other women—just as she had dated other men—before they met and fell in love.

He gave a half-hearted smile at her knowing him so well. "Yes, there was a girl. Her name was Grace, Grace Fuller; she was an 18 year old senior at one of the local high schools and she was _gorgeous_. I honestly don't know what she even saw in me or what ever possessed me to do so, but two weeks into the summer I screwed up the courage to ask her out and she said yes.

"I didn't know it at the time but the Fullers were a very well-connected family here in Metropolis. When I asked her for her address and she said she lived with her parents in a penthouse on Price Street—well, that's when I knew I was in over my head. Originally, I had planned to take her out to a little pizza place I knew and then to the movies but I soon realized that I had to up my game.

"I ended up taking Grace out to that fancy eatery, Giada's, in the Financial District instead, and blew every last penny I had on her overpriced salad which she barely touched…"

"She sounds wonderful," Chloe interrupted again, rolling her eyes at the eighteen year old's rude behavior toward her wonderful Jim.

He caught the derogatory tone and quickly spoke up on his former date's behalf. "She wasn't all that bad, Clo…but anyhow, I ended up not having enough money for the movie so I suggested a twilight walk and photo shoot in Siegel Park instead. That seemed to perk her up a bit…"

"Playing to her vanity, no doubt."

Jim rolled his eyes but ignored the remark. "And we started to have a better time. Now picture it, we're on the little Memorial Footbridge that runs over the pond on the Northwest side of the park, the moonlight is streaming down through the willow trees—it was just the most perfect shot." Chloe smiled in spite of herself; only her husband would be more smitten with the scenery at a moment like that then with the beautiful girl by his side. "So I set up a shot with Grace along the rail, the park and the city framed behind her, and I'm about to click the shutter when some idiot biker comes riding over the bridge like a little hellion and knocks me over! The moron didn't even stop to see what happened to me!"

She let loose a gasp and her eyes went wide. "Oh my God, were you ok?!"

He grimaced, recalling all that came afterward. "I tumbled down about fifteen feet into the pond, that's what happened, and let me tell you it was _disgusting_ in there. Worse still, the 'pond' was man-made and only three feet deep; when I landed I broke my arm." Jim held up his right arm for emphasis, his fingers running along the now-healed bone. "Oh, AND a rogue goose decided to swoop in and attack me for being in his muddy frigging water without his permission. Grace, of course, was still topside and laughing at me hysterically, which only added insult to injury."

"How awful!" she cried, clutching his hand tighter in hers.

"Yeah, well, believe it or not it gets even worse. Now she did help me hail a cab to the hospital—although she made me pay for it once we got there, with the very last of my payday money too," he lamented, more to himself then his wife, "And she did stay with me while we waited for the doctor…although, in retrospect, I really wish she'd gone home instead." Chloe furrowed her brow as the story started coming more to the root of Jim's on-going enmity toward hospitals, and Metropolis General in particular, and she waited patiently for him to continue. "It took two hours before someone finally saw me, and then they had to run all kinds of tests. An hour later, the results came back and the doctor just came into my room with a chart in his hands—he didn't even look up at me—and said 'Congratulations, you're pregnant'."

Now Chloe really couldn't contain herself and her mirth spilled over, shaking her very pregnant form. "So what was it, a boy or a girl?" she teased.

"Not funny. That was Grace's initial reaction too. When the doctor finally got his head out of his behind and saw me cradling my arm, he realized his mistake and had all the tests re-issued. While we waited for the new results they sent me down to x-ray, where the technician insisted on taking a picture of _the wrong arm._ It took me ten minutes of arguing with the guy before he took my right arm in his grip and made me scream like a girl—only then did he agree with me that it was my right arm and not my left arm that was broken. Idiot.

"Grace went home right around the time that they started setting my arm and putting it in a cast. The doctor prescribed some pain pills for me and sent me on my way, but not before sending me down to talk to someone in billing about how I was going to pay for all of it because I didn't have any health insurance. Yeah, that was fun…I didn't get out of the ER until almost five in the morning and I'm sure I looked like hell walking back to the Y; my arm in a cast, my good clothes all muddied up, and my left eye starting to turn black and blue from the damn goose. I felt worse leaving Met. Gen. then I did going in."

"Jimmy, that's just terrible," Chloe lamented.

"Oh but wait, there's more," he interrupted her, "There's always more. The pills made me nauseous, but since they were the only things that kept the pain away and I couldn't afford to switch medications, I kept taking them and trying to hold them down with nothing but Saltines in my stomach. I showed up for work on Monday even though I felt like crap because I needed the money and because I wanted to apologize to Grace for ruining our date—only I found her recounting for every other girl in the bullpen our entire Friday night in great and gory detail, from the 'bland' dinner to the walk in the park and the swan attack, all the way to the pregnancy test!"

"What a little witch…"

He smiled at his wife's protectiveness of him before recalling, "I did, however, get my revenge on her."

She quirked an eyebrow up at him. "You did? How?"

"I told you those pills made me nauseous, right?" Chloe nodded and crinkled her brow, not following where this was going. "Well when I went up to try and talk to her I accidentally threw up all over her posh Prada shoes."

"You didn't!" she gasped, horrified.

"I did. Needless to say, there was no second date."

"Well I guess she did have it coming…even if it wasn't intentional on your part." The cabbie turned into the hospital parking lot and made his way up to the front door. "But Jim, the one thing I still don't understand is why you hate Met. Gen. so much. Yes, that night was embarrassing…"

"Embarrassing doesn't even begin to describe that night! Mortifying, maybe. Humiliating? Absolutely!!!"

"Ok, but shouldn't you be more upset with the way Grace treated you then with the hospital's lapse in judgment that evening? ER's are always crowded and, well…ok, so there's really no excuse for the x-ray tech, but still I think Grace treated you worst of all."

Now it was Jim's turn to be confused. In the twenty years since the incident he'd only ever seen it as a valiant display of incompetency on behalf of the medical profession and a personal swing at his dignity. "How do you figure?"

"Well _she_ was the real problem there; don't you agree?" she asked rather rhetorically, only to find him staring back at her uncomprehendingly. "She treated you like crap, Jim! During the date, then when you got hurt and afterward at work…she sounds like a hideous person and frankly, I'm surprised you aren't more pissed at _her_ then you are at the hospital after all these years! I'll be the first to admit that the doctors that night could've treated you a hell of a lot better, but then again she could've too!

"And here's another thing—let's say you had gotten through that night without breaking your arm and you had gotten a second date with Grace. That might've led to a third date and a fourth…who knows, you might've ended up marrying her! Eventually you would've figured out how selfish and thoughtless and vapid she was but by then it would've been too late; and do you want to hear the worst part of all?"

"What?" he asked, his face distressed at the thought of his almost-marriage to his long-lost date.

She placed his hand over her stomach and held it there as she said, "You and I never would've met or fallen in love or had any of this." He felt the baby rolling around under his palm, trying to get comfortable. "So who do you think got the better end of the deal here? You, with your job that you love, your wife and your kids that you love—and who all love you in return, I might add—or Grace Fuller who couldn't even be bothered to show you an ounce of compassion when you were up to your elbows in muddy swan water with a broken arm?"

Jim couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as the weight from carrying around twenty years of grief slipped off his shoulders. Of course his wife would be the one to recognize that it wasn't really the hospital he'd been upset with for all that time, but rather his date, when he hadn't been able to see it himself. Jim hopped out of the cab with a spring in his step and held a hand out for Chloe before turning to pay the driver, laughing the whole time.

"I'm glad I could make you feel better," she said as they walked up the pathway to Metropolis General's front door, side by side, "But can you answer one more question for me?"

"Anything."

"Was she really as pretty as you say she was?"

Jim stopped dead in his tracks and clasped his hands on Chloe's slim shoulders. "To my inexperienced, nineteen year old eye, yes Grace was pretty. But no one—and I mean NO one—is more beautiful then you. Not Grace Fuller, nor Julia Banks nor anybody else." He closed his eyes and leaned in to plant a long, passionate kiss on her.

"Good answer," she murmured, pulling back for a quick breath before kissing him again. "Wait a second…who's Julia Banks?!?!?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Ack! Not only am I late with the latest story, but I made a big goof too!!!! Chapter 2 was supposed to be "The Successor", followed by "Aversion" and _then _"New Life"...but I forgot all about "The Successor"! Now we can't have that or it'll mess up the timeline...so yeah, I apologize for the inconvenience of it all, but if you wouldn't mind re-reading the _new _chapter 2 I'd appreciate it. Thanks, and I'll try and be more careful in the future. Bye!

* * *

**New Life**

_**Metropolis General Hospital, **_**February 13, 2014. **"He's the best Valentine's day present ever…don't you think so, Jim?" Chloe asked as she lay propped up in the hospital bed, the newest addition to their family cradled in her arms while her husband sat on the edge of the mattress drinking them both in.

He held a finger out and watched the baby grasp it tightly in his tiny hand, both pairs of eyes widening in surprise and glee at the connection. "Yes he is; and he's such a good little boy too! Yes you are, Christopher Ian, yes you are…"

A small wave of exhaustion rolled over her but was instantly quelled when she thought of two others whose opinions mattered most regarding the baby in her arms. "I think it's about time we introduced this little guy to his big brother and sister before he falls asleep again."

Jim leaned over to kiss his wife on her upturned forehead, then reluctantly got up and moved for the door. He only made it a few feet down the corridor when he stopped.

Lois blushed as she strode down the maternity ward hallway, a wide-eyed, blond-haired toddler holding onto each of her outstretched hands and a large gift bag hanging from one of her wrists. "A, um, _reliable source_ told me you might be looking for these two," she said, winking as Jim smiled and bent down to be at eye level with his older children.

Reaching out and affectionately tussling Tommy's hair he glanced over at Abby and couldn't help but notice the new matching shirts his kids wore. "Hey you two! Where did you get these?"

"These Jay-Jay shirts!" his daughter proclaimed proudly, pulling her new, white, 'I'm the Big Sister' shirt away from her chest so her father could examine them further.

Jim stood back up and looked to Lois for confirmation, seeing the pride in her eyes before he heard it in her voice. "Jason bought them for the kids in the gift shop with his allowance. He said it was tradition, though he wouldn't explain what that meant. He also said that this was from Tommy and Abby for their new sibling…"

"No peeking!" Tommy piped up as his aunt handed the gift over.

The photographer stopped mid-way through opening the bag and hastily closed it shut. "Ha ha, ok Little Guy, you win." Looking at his friend, he added, "Are you sure that son of yours is only twelve and a half? Sometimes I swear he acts more like a kid twice his age."

"Have you met his father?" she retorted, laughing. "It's a family trait. Speaking of which, don't you think it's about time these two…?"

"Oh, right!" Jim looked down and held a hand out to each of his kids, his heart skipping a beat in delight as they easily relinquished their hold on their aunt in preference for him. _I still can't believe this incredible life is mine…_ "Hey you guys, there's somebody _very_ important Mommy and I want you to meet." He led them back into the room, but looked back when he sensed something was missing. "Lois? Aren't you coming too?"

She gave him a dismissive wave of the hand as she turned around in her trek back down the hall. "Later, Jim, this is family time." He gave her a pointed look at that before she emphasized, "_Your_ family time. We'll pop in in a little while." And with that she rounded the corner and disappeared again.

"Hi my Angels!" Chloe called out as her husband re-entered with kids in tow. Abby broke free from his grip before he could stop her and rushed the bed, unafraid of the strange surroundings or the bundle in her mother's arms. Her brother, on the other hand, clung tightly to Jim's hand.

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!! We got shirts with Jay-Jay, and then we got a present, it's a…"

"You're not s'posed to tell!!!" her brother admonished as he finally toddled up beside his sister, his eyes wide.

"Play nice you two," Jim warned, just as Chloe shot him a calming look. He changed tactics after looking down into Chris' face. "Now, remember how Mommy and I told you you were going to get a new baby brother or sister? Well he's here." Abby's face dropped in a comical O of surprise while her twin scrunched up his in incomprehension. Jim picked the kids up together, wrapping an arm around each of their small bodies and holding them close while Chloe held Chris up for inspection. "This is your new baby brother, Christopher. What do you think?"

The proud new mother and father studied their children's countenances as they looked from the baby then to each other; it was a look they'd noticed before, and one that Jim recognized from growing up with his twin siblings Justin and Jill. That uncanny ability to understand what the other was thinking, without even having to say the words…it was a twin sense that still unnerved him, even after all these years.

A look of dread filled Chloe's face as neither of the three year olds spoke for a full minute, an unprecedented feat considering how much the pair liked to squabble and scramble for affection and attention. Ever since learning of this second pregnancy, she and Jim had done everything they could to inform their children of the impending arrival, anxiously worrying about how they'd react the day that their little brother or sister finally put in an appearance. Now Chris was here and their worst fears looked about ready to come true.

Tom was looking at his father and Abby was staring at her mother when both asked as one, "Where's da other one?"

Jim spluttered, momentarily discombobulated by the unusual question before asking, "What other one do you mean?"

He watched his young son roll his eyes, looking at his father as if the answer was perfectly obvious. "Jay-Jay has Hayey, Abby and me have each other…where's baby's Abby?"

"You two think babies come in pairs?" Chloe asked. They both nodded their blond heads in enthusiastic agreement.

At that explanation both parents were immediately put at ease, knowing that their intrepid twins would be very accepting of the new addition once that misconception was cleared up, and their laughter could be heard bouncing off the walls down the corridor and all the way to the nurses' station.


	5. Chapter 5

**Pretty in…**

_**Metropolis, **_**March 21, 2015. **It was a rare evening that all four Kents were together and they decided to make the most of it by playing a board game before watching a DVD. Around 8 o'clock they moved into the living room and settled themselves down for the show; Lois and soon-to-be six year old Haley were waiting on either end of the sofa, ready to snuggle in with Clark once he plopped the disc into the machine, and thirteen year old Jason sat curled up on the floor at Lois' feet, holding fast to the almost-overflowing bowl of popcorn.

Clark put an arm around each of the girls in his life, drawing them closer to him so that they could all share in one another's warmth. He turned to Lois and her head tilted up in anticipation—closing his eyes, he placed a tender, passionate kiss on her forehead and as he pulled away he could practically hear her purr in satisfaction. The fact that such a simple act made them both so blissfully happy made him grin from ear to ear.

A loud bang sounded on the television and the little girl to his right twitched violently. "It's ok, Cookie," he whispered as the opening previews continued to roll, "It's only make-believe." She gave a feeble nod as he brushed the hair out of her face and proceeded to kiss the top of her head, but as the violence on the screen became more gruesome, Clark decided to distract his youngest by asking, "Are you all ready for our special day tomorrow?"

Haley immediately whipped her head around and gave him a lopsided grin, displaying the recent gaps made between her baby teeth and her new, permanent teeth. "Yeah!" Aunt Lucy had decided to gift her niece with her old childhood bedroom furniture, and Lois and Clark both agreed that along with the new bed and chest of drawers they would do away with the faded Robin's egg blue walls and Noah's Ark border. The pair also decided to include Haley in the project, and they hoped to finish it up before her upcoming birthday.

Clark bopped her playfully on the nose and made her giggle. "Have you got a color picked out yet?"

"Uh huh," she replied, enthusiastically nodding her head, the scary preview forgotten. Then in one swift motion she got to her knees and leaned up against her father, cupping her hands around his ear to whisper her answer.

"Oh…oh I see."

She plopped back down in her seat with a satisfied smile on her face.

"What are you two whispering about over there?" Lois inquired, her curiosity finally peaking. "No secrets now—well, except the one." From his perch at her feet Jason snorted then threw a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"It's a surprise, Mommy!" she exclaimed, pouting. Clark couldn't help laughing at the mini-Lois expression on his little one's face.

"Not helping," his wife whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Turning back to Haley just before the opening credits rolled, she added, "Ok, Baby Girl—it's your birthday and your room. Just don't you and your father make a mess tomorrow while I'm gone, ok?"

"No Mommy, not us." The seriousness of the little girl's tone made Lois laugh uproariously and she settled into the crook of her husband's arm just as the show began, still struggling to stifle her giggles.

****

_**Metropolis,**_** March 22, 2015, 9:08 am.**Lois gave a kiss to the kids as she got out of the cab of the small rental van, extracting promises from both Jason and Haley that they would be on their best behavior that day while she helped out their Uncle Perry, while also making her husband promise to drop the kids off in the bullpen should the need arise.

"I know, Lo, don't worry," he replied, leaning out the driver's side window to give her a kiss before she scurried across the street and into the _Daily Planet _building. Jason shifted over into the front seat beside his father and quickly latched the seat belt into place before they eased out onto the road once again.

Fifteen minutes later and they sat stuck in traffic a mere seven blocks from where they'd started. With Haley playing with her teddy bear, Bobo, and jabbering to herself in the backseat, Jason took the opportunity to ask his father a question. "Dad, why didn't you just fly to Nana's and get the bed and stuff? Wouldn't it have been easier?"

Clark eyed the stretch of traffic ahead and sighed; it was going to take awhile before they cleared the accident a mile up ahead, and even with the police diverting traffic around the scene it would still be very slow going until they reached the City limits. He turned to look at his lanky teenage son beside him. "Yes, flying would've been easier."

"But?"

"But it also would've been too conspicuous. People would've seen me and wondered why I was flying furniture all across town, thereby raising more questions then your mother and I want to answer; besides, it's safer for your Nana if she doesn't know anything 'special' about me. And you know, Jason, sometimes doing things the human way is much more rewarding. I could have had your sister's room all painted and set-up for her in under an hour, but this way I get to spend some quality time with her…I remember doing things like this with my Dad and I want you and Haley to have memories like that too."

"I guess that makes sense," the boy replied before turning to look out the window at all the pedestrians. "But I don't see what's so rewarding about sitting here bumper-to-bumper for the next half hour."

"You are _soooo_ your mother's son," Clark cracked up. The vehicle in front of them lurched forward one car length and drew his attention to the road once more.

****

_**Metropolis, **_**March 22, 2015, 12:45 pm. **Jason had been dropped off at a friend's house after the furniture had been collected and the paint picked up from the local hardware store, and now Haley and Clark stood in the middle of her empty bedroom staring at the old nursery walls, paintbrushes in hand. The blue tarp that had been laid over the carpet crinkled under the little girl's feet as she hopped up and down animatedly. Her father's old work shirt—which she now wore backwards as a smock to protect her clothes from the inevitable splatter—swung back and forth around her ankles.

"Can I start yet?"

Clark stepped forward and put a bit of painter's tape around the baseboard on the floor, then stepped back next to his daughter to survey his work. "Just one second, Hales," he replied, noticing a spot that he'd missed above the window. Hovering a few inches off the floor so that he was eye level with the top of the sill, he pulled a piece of tape off the roll and plunked it down, ensuring that he wouldn't have to touch it up again later. His feet touching ground once more he turned back to face his daughter and smiled. "Ok, now we can get started."

She dashed over to the cans of paint and empty trays on the opposite side of the room with a speed she inherited from her father and waited impatiently for him to pour out the contents.

"Now remember, you want to spread it around on the walls and make it nice and even. Not too thick or too thin, ok?"

Haley eyed the paint greedily as he poured it into the tray. "Uh huh," she muttered rather distractedly.

Tipping the can back and setting it on the floor, he watched her tentatively dip the end of her brand new brush and swirl it around in the color until a vortex formed in the center. She spent several minutes simply swirling the paint, clearly torn between wanting to put the new color up on her walls and playing with it in it's container. Her indecisiveness made him smirk; Haley was so unique in so many ways, not just in physiology, and it was little glimpses of moments like these that made him smile and appreciate his kids even more. There had been a time not too long ago where he didn't think having a wife and kids was a possibility he should even be entertaining, yet here he was in the bosom of his family and it made him feel so…complete. He snuck another look down at his daughter; clearly Haley was going to need a little nudge if he wanted to get the room done before Lois got home.

"Do you want to put some of that on the wall, Honey?"

His voice broke her intense concentration on the paint and she turned to him with wide blue eyes. "Oh!" She yanked the brush right out of the container and toddled over to the wall, slathering it up and down over the pale blue. "How's this, Daddy?"

But Clark couldn't speak. In his daughter's haste she'd flicked the brush back so that he now had a long streak of speckles reaching from his waist all the way up to his mouth. For the first time in her life Haley had been too fast for the Man of Steel.

****

He set the roller down as he coated the last corner of the first full wall and stood back to survey his work. His daughter, bored by the lack of detail, had already started up on a fresh wall and was painting a stick figure picture in the corner with the tip of her brush.

In the blink of an eye he was crouched down beside her with a brush in his hands, one edge dipped in the paint, ready to join in her fun. "What are you painting here?"

Haley lowered the brush down on the tarp and smiled in satisfaction at her work. "That's me in the cornfield at Grandma's…and there's one of the horsies…and that's Jason jumping really really high like he did last summer!"

"Wow, that's not bad!" he replied enthusiastically, nodding in appreciation. "Now, what do you think of this?" Straightening up, Clark proceeded to paint a little doodle all his own in the middle of the wall; a thick batch of clouds and a smiling sun shining down on him and his daughter as he held her hand and hey soared high up in the sky.

The little girl screwed her mouth up to one side and examined the artwork with a critical eye. "It's ok," she finally admitted, narrowing her eyes as she studied the two stick figure images again.

Clark scoffed. "Just ok? It's a masterpiece! The Sistine Chapel can't compare!"

"Daddy, don't be silly!" she teased, giggling as he bent down to scoop her up. The two of them took another look at the artwork which was now at her eye level. "Will I be able to fly like you too someday?"

He stopped and stared at her; it was a question he hadn't been expecting from his six year old, at least not yet. Jason was impatient about his Kryptonian powers and was always wondering when more would come; Haley, on the other hand, was much more laid back about her abilities, preferring to take the new changes in stride and not question if or when they'd make themselves manifest.

"I don't know, Hales. There's a good chance you'll be able to, but we'll have to wait and see when you get older, ok?"

"Uh huh."

She bit down on her lower lip and Clark could see that she was staring at her little stick figure self again. "What's the matter?"

"I was thinking," she said slowly, weighing each word in her head before she spoke.

"Thinking about what?" he prodded her.

"Well…when I start flying, can my cape be this color instead of like yours? Because I like this color better."

Clark furrowed his brow, unable to reconcile the image before him with the one in his head; his sweet little girl all wrapped up in one of his old off-white work shirts, versus the young woman she would become, super-powers and all, flying around in a leotard and cape. He must have been lost in thought for several minutes, because he soon felt Haley tugging at the sleeve of his shirt and trying to re-gain his attention.

"Please, Dad? Pretty please?" She looked at him with pleading eyes and he felt his willpower begin to wane.

"We'll see."

****

_**Metropolis, **_**March 22, 2015, 6:23 pm. **"I'm home!" Lois cried out from the doorway as she pulled her key out of the lock. "How does everyone feel about burgers for dinner?" She moved down the hall toward the bedrooms to find her missing family.

She heard a soft thumping in Jason's room and, knocking on the door, waited to be invited in. When he didn't respond she let herself in and found him propped up in bed with his headphones in his ears and a car magazine in his hands, his foot tapping against the baseboard in time with the beat.

"Jason?" she tried again, waving to him from the doorway. Finally he pulled the headphones out and draped the oversized set around his neck. "How do you feel about burgers for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, cool," the teenager replied, music still blaring out the earpieces, before he delved back into the glossy pages.

With a sigh Lois turned away and found Clark slowly backing out of their bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. Knowing his wife was close at hand he turned around and held out his arms for an embrace.

"Hi," she murmured into his chest as he wrapped himself around her. "Where's the Baby Girl?"

"Asleep," he replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the closed door. "In our room. Don't worry, I won't let her nap too long, I know how cranky she gets." Clark held her in his arms a moment more before starting in excitement. "Want to see how her room turned out? I just put the last of the furniture in there."

"Sure."

He took her by the hand and led her back down the hallway, pausing only when his hand was on the knob. "Now it's going to be a little chilly in here; we had to keep the windows open so the air could circulate."

"Ok…"

"And if you don't like the way I placed the bed or anything I can always move it."

Lois tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Ok…"

"And if you see any spots that look like they could use a touch-up just say the word, because there's still a little bit of paint left…"

"Oh for Pete's sake, Clark, just let me see the room already!" she exclaimed loudly, irritation and amusement clearly written on her face.

"Ok." He pushed the door open with ease, revealing the old nursery which had now been transformed into their daughter's 'Big Girl' room. The headrest of Lucy's white-painted, oak, twin bed rested against the wall not far from the door, with matching nightstands sitting on either side of it, while a large dresser from the same set sat against the wall opposite the footboard. Haley also had a few of her old pieces of furniture in her new room—a toy chest, two long, lean bookshelves, etc.—that rounded out the space; but it was the new color on the walls that left Lois momentarily speechless.

"Clark, you didn't…" she whispered, stepping further into the room and letting go of his hand.

The poor man furrowed his brow as he stood in the doorway, staring at her. "What?"

"Pink?!" she squeaked out, standing full in the room and gesturing at the bubblegum pinks walls on all sides. "You let her paint the room pink?!?"

"Well we did tell her she could choose…" he began reasoning.

"Yes, but I thought she'd choose lilac or cream or _something_ other then…" Lois swallowed hard, the noxious word struggling to pass her lips, "…pink."

The tall man smirked where he stood, arms folded across his chest, eying her from head to toe and back again, his smile growing wider with each passing scan. "I seem to recall a time when you _liked_ pink, Lois; in fact, you even asked me if _I _liked pink."

Her hazel eyes went wide as he called her out and she huffed, "That was one time, and it was only because it was laundry week! And so sue me if I was a little star-struck talking to a man who could fly! Besides, would you have rather I'd gone commando during our first interview?!?"

Clark could do nothing but blush a deep shade of red at the thought of x-raying Lois on the balcony of her old apartment, and seeing her in _all_ her glory. Just then Jason groaned from across the hall behind the closed door of his room, and he shouted, "Ewww, _MOM_! That's just GROSS!!!"

Clark stepped forward into the room as his wife made her way toward the edge of the bed to take a seat, the two of them chuckling while trying to keep their voices down. "Honey, we did tell Haley that she could pick the color," Clark reminded his wife again.

"I know…but pink is just so…so…_girly_. It's…"

"It's everything you weren't at her age," he finished for her, drawing his arm over her shoulders so that she could lean against him.

Looking up into his face, she asked, "Is that wrong? Is it wrong to want my daughter to be just a little bit like me?"

With a small laugh he leaned down and kissed the top of her upturned forehead. "Sweetheart," he said, "She's more like you then you'll ever know, but for some reason you just can't see it." He let out a soft sigh. "You'd think after all these years…"

The door creaked as it was pushed back a little further, revealing Haley standing in the doorway and framed by the light in the hall as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "_Daddy_!" she wailed, still irritable from her too-brief nap. "You said I could help you move stuff!!!" She stalked into the room and made a bee-line for the bed her parents were sitting on. Crawling up in-between them she stood on the mattress and surveyed the space. "AHHH! _DADDY_, Mr. Alligator can't sit next to Bobo! He might eat him!!!"

The little girl dove for her pillows, separating the carnivorous reptile from her defenseless teddy bear lest he get attacked. Clark could only chuckle as Haley raced around, righting his wrongs, and he caught Lois staring up at him with a look of embarrassment as she recognized Haley's little mannerisms as a reflection of her own.

"And you put my Bella Ballerina books in the wrong order!" their daughter cried as she stood in front of the bookshelves.

Clark leaned down and kissed his wife's forehead as she let loose a soft groan then winced. Their little girl jutted out her hip and struck her hand there just so, another oft-repeated Lois gesture.

"Oh yeah, just like you," he stage-whispered as he rose from his seat, still smiling at her as he went to help his daughter re-arrange her toys.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Stuff of Nightmares**

_**Metropolis, **_**September 6, 2016. **Life was good, and Lois knew she had a lot to be thankful for. The kids were healthy (both were growing like weeds) and relatively happy; Jason was dealing with the usual adolescent angst while both kids were coping with their powers. It wasn't always easy--Haley had come into her super-hearing in the middle of a third grade class party--but they were doing well so far.

Work was going great. Perry had named her as his successor at the _Planet_ when he retired; of course that announcement had come over three years ago, so when the Old Man would actually step down was anybody's guess. Still, she had that promotion to look forward to.

And Clark was…well, he was simply wonderful. Every anniversary that passed found her more and more in love with him. They were attuned to each other in ways that Lois, ever the cynic, never thought possible between two people. They had been through plenty of good times and seen more then their fair share of the bad, yet each time they came out clean on the other side saw their bond strengthened, not weakened. After nearly two decades together, eight of them as husband and wife, she and Clark truly were partners in every sense of the word.

So why did bad days like this continue to surprise her? Why, when her husband did a complete about-face, did she question the source of his anger? He'd gripe at the kids, he'd lash out at her, he'd complain about the thankless rescues he went on; even colleagues in the bullpen grew suspicious of him on these 'dark days', and Jim was careful to keep his friend out of the bullpen limelight until the danger passed.

The moods were so out of character for Clark and yet, she knew, they weren't to be completely unexpected. Given the things he saw and coped with day in and day out, and the trauma he'd endured not so very long ago…it was in his nature to keep his anger pent up inside until it finally reached a boiling point and had to go _somewhere_, and she was usually the handiest target. Lois didn't resent him for having to bear the brunt of his anger, but that's not to say she looked forward to these infrequent fits either. Just like his powers and alter-ego, it all came as part of the package when loving Clark and that Tuesday played out like the last half-dozen other truly 'bad' days they'd had over the course of their married life.

Lois didn't have to guess at when the arguments would arise, for his outbursts were always precipitated by nightmares. What she longed to know was how to get Clark to open up to her about his nightly terrors and make him see that he didn't need to shield her from them. She could stomach hearing what spooked the Man of Steel in the middle of the night, but more importantly she wanted to help make the nightmares end.

****

_**The Previous Evening… **_Luthor stood alone in the middle of the bunker office, dressed in his crisp white suit and bathed in a single beam of light, sneering all the while at his captive.

"Hello, Superman."

Clark looked down to see the dingy white t-shirt with the shredded symbol of El clinging to his sweat-drenched chest. He took another step forward into the room in disbelief, eyes darting around the darkened space in search of an escape, and he fought the urge to hyperventilate. He wanted to run, run as far and as fast as his Kryptonian legs would carry him, but they suddenly felt weighted down as if suctioned to the very floor he stood upon. The walls around him were tinged green, he noticed, but instead of the accompanying pain he felt oddly mortal. Human.

And on an equal playing field with Lex Luthor.

At long last he stopped warring with himself and looked up, locking eyes with the madman who was imprisoning him. "You're dead, Luthor."

"Oh am I?" The figment looked down in surprise, then pulled back the lapel of his suit jacket just to check. "I don't _look_ dead, Superman. I don't _feel_ dead."

Clark wasn't having any of it. "You can't hurt me anymore, you're finished! You didn't win."

"Yes, yes, you seem very certain of that," Luthor replied smugly. He clasped his hands behind his hands and started rocking back and forth on his heels, whistling a nameless tune while rolling his eyes and looking everywhere but at the Man of Steel.

The man's nonchalance grated on Clark's very last nerve. "Stop it."

Luthor ceased his whistling and stared at Superman in shock. Glancing around the empty room he pointed at his own chest and asked, "Who? Me?"

Clark ground his teeth in his head until he thought sparks would fly out. The melody Luthor resumed belting out sounded like nails on a chalkboard to his ears and he was growing more and more livid with each passing note. "I said STOP IT!!!"

"Come and stop me, Supe-y," the figment taunted him, hands now up and readied like a boxer. Clark felt his fingers ball up into fists at his sides and Luthor's eyes gleamed at the sight. "You know you want to…you can't help yourself. Stop fighting it."

"You're dead," the poor hero muttered under his breath, closing his eyes to block out the sight of the man standing before him.

But Lex Luthor would not be so easily ignored. "No, I'm not. I _am_, however, going to kill _you_. Then I'll snatch up your wife and your children…oh the things I have planned for those children of yours…they'll beg for death long before I'm through…"

Like a tiger released from his cage Clark lunged at the white-suited figure, sending him tumbling backward to the ground and pinning him fast to the floor. His head cracked open like a melon as it hit the concrete and Clark could see Luthor's blood pool; still, Luthor wouldn't die. In the space of a nanosecond Clark had his muscular hands wrapped around the criminal's neck and began choking the very life out of him.

"Yes, Superman, yes!" Luthor cried out raspily, smiling even as his air supply was being cut off. "I always knew you were nothing more then a murderous **ALIEN**!!! Prove me right! Kill me!!! _**KILL ME**_!!!!"

****

Clark awoke from the vicious nightmare to the obnoxious blaring of his alarm clock. His face and his pillow were covered in sweat, and the sheets—well, the sheets were balled up in his hands, thumbs overlapping, where he'd been wringing the very life out of the long-dead Lex Luthor. His eyes tapered off into hard little slits, the intense anguish written plainly on his face.

The hurt, the confusion, the wrath at what Luthor had done to him those many years ago overtook him on mornings like this and even he didn't have the strength to pretend he wasn't hurting. He hated who he became on these days. He couldn't be bothered to be mild-mannered Clark Kent at home or at the office, and what was hardest was watching his wife and children adjust to his moods and keep their distance lest they unintentionally set him off, especially when it was any number of things which might cause him to finally unleash his temper. Lois bore the brunt of it, he knew, and he hated himself for the beast he became. Clark wanted nothing more then to break the cycle of pain brought on by Luthor's brutality but he was at an utter loss as to how to make it all stop.

One thing about the nightmares, however, troubled him greatly. For the briefest of moments between choking the life out of Luthor and waking up he'd feel oddly satisfied...


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Hello again everybody! Just wanted to let you know that this story in particular was the impetus for "Life Intervenes". I just couldn't get Jason and Haley out of my head when I was in the middle of writing "Consequences" so I gave them a moment that was all their own. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it's time for the Superman Movieverse Fanfiction Awards again! If you're unfamiliar with the craze check out htbthomas' profile page, or check out the site on livejournal. Nominations are being accepted up until the end of June and then voting begins July 1st. I can't wait to see all the great fanfiction that gets nominated! Best of luck to all the authors out there!!!

* * *

**The Bear Goes Missing (Part 1)**

_**Metropolis, **_**January 26, 2017.** He sat in the living room with the coffee table pulled close, his geometry books spread out before him while the muted television flickered on in the background. Jason had always excelled at mathematics—he'd even been placed in a class a grade above his own peers—but this year was a different story.

Geometry was kicking his super-charged rear.

He kept flipping between problem number twelve on page 115 and back to the answer key on page 347, but the answer on the notepad before him simply did not match up. Tearing the page away from it's binding he crumpled it in his large hand and lobbing it through the air until it joined it's brothers and sisters in an ever-growing pile on the opposite side of the room.

"I hate geometry!" Jason cried out in exasperation, ever the melodramatic fifteen year old. It wasn't as though anyone were around to reprimand him for his outburst.. Both his parents were working late that evening—his mother was at the _Planet_ with his Uncle Perry, while his father…a quick glance up at the TV showed Superman to be aiding some unfortunate souls in Egypt, and he knew it would be some time more before he returned home. And Haley was asleeop down the hall.

He glanced down at the problem again and copied it neatly at the top of the page, then plugged in the corresponding numbers to the Pythagorean theorem. "Why do I always get a different answer…?" he asked out loud as he scribbled away, working the problem for the umpteenth time.

"Jason," Haley stage whispered from the middle of the hallway where she stood in her long, lilac nightgown. "I can't find Bobo. I looked everywhere for him and he's gone. I can't go to sleep without him." Her lower lip began to quiver as she spoke.

The teenager glanced down at the battered watch on his wrist and then shot his sister a questioning glance. "I thought I put you to bed an hour ago, Hales; have you been up this whole time?"

She nodded her head in solemn agreement, her dark wavy locks flopping about her shoulders. "Uh huh. I can't go to sleep without Bobo. Will you help me look for him the special way, like Daddy does?"

He hauled his gangly, 5'11" frame up off the sofa and let out a sigh, then trod down the hall toward the little girl. Placing a hand gently on her back, he guided her over toward her bright pink room and urged her back into bed. "When's the last time you remember seeing him?"

Haley scrambled over to the center of the room and leapt up onto the mattress, landing in the center with a soft thud. She cocked her head to the side and tried to recall when she'd last seen her favorite teddy bear. "This morning, I think…before school."

Jason forced a small smile on his face as he stood in the doorway. "Then he must still be here in the apartment, right? Ok, now let's just see where he's hiding…" The x-ray vision had been his most recent power to develop—shortly after he'd begun flying, in fact—and it was one ability he was still having trouble controlling. There were moments when it would suddenly appear out of the blue, like when he was navigating the hallways of his high school between classes, while there were still other times when his father would urge him to look through a box or a wall or an envelope in order to practice and he would find the view before him unchanged. The flip-flop vision annoyed him almost as much as his geometry assignments.

Holding his breath, Jason turned his head to the corner of the room and began willing the outer layers of the toy chest to dissolve away. Slowly but surely the wooden exterior faded from view, revealing the outlines of numerous dolls, toy cars, and plastic knick knacks inside that his sister had collected over the years—but no bear was to be found. He tried again with the closet.

****

Haley hugged her knees to her chest, her dark hair falling around her pale white face, and she watched her big brother in rapt attention as he carefully scanned the entire room searching for Bobo.

Finally, Jason appeared to finish and strode forward, getting down on all fours next to her bed. Haley leaned over the opposite side and lifted up the bed skirt to see her brother peering around under the frame, where nothing lingered save for a few pairs of shoes and some dust bunnies. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the bear."

"Oh."

He straightened up and brushed the dust off his hands and she turned to look at him expectantly. "I don't know what to tell you, Hales, but Bobo's not here. It looks like he's flown the coop for the night."

Her bright blue eyes began to water and her lower lip trembled again. "But I can't s-sleep without BOBO!"

****

Jason sat down next to her on the mattress and pulled her in for a hug, her hot tears seeping through his t-shirt. He rubbed her back soothingly and gradually Haley began to settle back down. As her sobs subsided and only a handful of hiccups escaped her lips, he laid her back down against the pillow and pulled the covers up tight under her chin.

"Did I ever tell you the story of how you came by Bobo?"

The little girl rolled her eyes, looking just like their mother. "Of _course_! Only about a hundred times…you gave him to me at the hospital on my very first birthday—the one without the candle and cake."

He smirked at her attitude. "That's right, but there's more to the story then that; would you like to hear it?" Haley pulled at the covers and nodded her head, her eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of hearing a new version of an old tale. "Alright then. Tell me, how much do you remember about Grandpa Sam?" The man in question had passed away four years earlier, and he wasn't sure what, if anything, she remembered about the only grandfather they'd ever met.

"Ummm…" She brought her forefinger up to her mouth and bit on the end, lost in thought for a moment. "I remember going with you and Mom and Dad to the house 'on-Base', and Nana would meet us at the front door. Then he'd call out 'Who's that I hear?' in a mean voice, almost like he was angry but we knew he was just pretending and I'd run down the hall to find him. I'd stand in the doorway and he'd sit in that big comfy chair with the newspaper in his hands and his glasses on the end of his nose—then he'd smile and let me sit on his lap, and we'd read the paper and talk and he always let me eat ice cream."

Jason smiled at his sister's memory; the General had relaxed a lot after her birth—not that he hadn't been a terrific grandfather to him before Haley came along, but he tended to let more of his exacting Army standards slide in her presence. Both Kent children missed him, but Jason suspected he missed him just a little bit more by virtue of having known him longer.

"Yep, that sounds like Grandpa Sam. Well, on the day you were born, we were all waiting at the hospital to meet you—Grandpa Sam, Nana Ella, Grandma Martha, Uncle Perry _AND_ Uncle Jimmy." He stopped and took stock of the effect his words had on her; Haley was extremely pleased with herself for having drawn so many visitors to her side just by being born—but then a small frown crossed her face.

"Where was Aunt Chloe?" she asked anxiously.

"Well Aunt Chloe hadn't married Uncle Jimmy yet and she was still living in Smallville; don't you remember the pictures we have from their wedding, with you holding the flowers?"

"Oh yeah…"

"So anyhow, all these people were waiting to meet you, and Nana Ella asked me if I wanted a brother or a sister. I told her what I told Mom and Dad, that I wanted a baby brother so that I could be like my friend Danny. Back then he was my best friend, and he had a younger brother _and _a younger sister; however, his brother Hunter was older and at the time he was a lot more fun to play with. Marie was just a little blob of a baby and I didn't want a younger sister like that."

Her jaw dropped indignantly at this latest revelation. "You didn't _WANT_ _ME_?!?!" she shrieked.

He held a hand up dramatically to silence her. "Hear me out a second, I'm not finished yet. Now where was I? Oh yeah, I wanted a baby brother, so Nana Ella then asked me what I would do if I _did_ get a sister. I told her, very simply, that I'd trade her with one of the babies in the windowed room down the hall—I thought it was like the pet store we used to have down the block, where you could see all the puppies playing behind the window and pick one up for adoption. I figured we could trade with a couple who had a boy but wanted a girl, and that way we'd all get what we wanted."

"You wanted to _TRADE ME_?!?!?"

Jason grinned in the face of her outrage. "What can I say, Hales? You hadn't been born yet—I didn't know you or have a chance to get to love you like I do now." He bopped her playfully on the nose and she giggled.

"Ok…" The little girl settled back down, temporarily mollified.

"Now once everybody there had a good laugh at my expense—because obviously you can't trade babies like that—Nana Ella told me what the purpose of the windowed room was while Grandpa Sam called out to me and took my hand. He told Nana that we were going on official baby business and that we'd be back soon and then led me out of the room.

"Needless to say, I was getting a little sick of baby stuff by then, but I liked spending time with 'Grandpa General'—that's what I used to call him when I was little—and we rode all the way down in the elevator to the gift shop." A sad smile crept across his face as the memories of that day washed over him.

****

_**Metropolis General Hospital**_**, March 29, 2009.** "Jason, come here," General Lane called out to his grandson as the boy stood staring at a row of brightly colored snow globes. The lad dutifully trotted over to his side and watched him with big blue eyes as he held a white t-shirt up against the front of his body. "Yep, that'll do."

"What does it say?" Jason asked, peering up into his grandfather's face.

He leaned over and held the shirt out for inspection. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I'm the Big Broth…Brother!" The little boy beamed in triumph at his accomplishment.

Sam held out a hand which the child quickly latched onto, and the pair proceeded down the aisle at a leisurely pace. "We need to find you a gift to give to your little brother or _sister_; you don't want to show up to their first birthday party empty handed, do you?"

Jason stared at him, concerned. "It's his first birthday?"

"Yep, his _or_ _hers_," he glanced down at his watch, "Assuming they're born within the next thirteen hours or so. And we need to find you a gift to give your new sibling. You can pick anything you like, within reason."

"Wow!" Jason turned his head, his gaze returning to the snow globes that had caught his eye earlier. "What about one of those?"

The General eyed the heavy trinkets with a weary eye but did his best to temper his disapproval. "Why don't we see what else they have here first before we decide, ok?"

"Ok." A row of plastic model cars near the end of the aisle commanded his attention next. He let go of his grandfather's hand and raced off to play with the plastic red and green painted toys.

"So, you like cars, huh?" The boy nodded his head vigorously in response, not bothering to look up from his imaginary play. "Do you think you'd want to get that for the baby?" He knew it was an inappropriate gift for a newborn, but he wanted to see his grandson's reaction.

"No," he replied mournfully, putting the objects down and preparing to walk away.

"Why not?"

"_Because_, if the baby _is_ a girl then she won't want to play _cars_." Sam stared at his grandson quizzically and crouched down to be at eye level with him as he continued on in his explanation. "She'll only want to play dress up and tea party and do other girlie things, not the fun stuff like I like."

Jason's statement hit Sam in the face like a bucket of cold water; he knew the child hadn't picked up on this way of thinking from his parents, and he hoped to God he hadn't learned it from him. The General knew he hadn't always been fair when he was raising Lois and Lucy, treating them as if they were inferior to his cadets because they were young women instead of young men, but he liked to think he'd changed for the better these last few years and mended his ways.

"Is that why you want a brother instead of a sister, because you're afraid you'll have to play _tea party_?"

Again, the child nodded his head vigorously. "And other stuff. You can't play-wrestle with girls, or build forts, or play cops and robbers, or have snowball fights…"

He held up a hand to stop the jabbering boy. "Ok, I think I get the picture." Sam brought a hand to his chin and held it there contemplatively, pondering how best to phrase his thoughts to a seven year old child.

"Do you ever build forts with your mother?"

"Uh huh—she even lets me use the good blankets because they make the best roofs."

"How about snowball fights?"

"Yeah. She throws good, too."

"What about cops and robbers?"

"Sometimes…but not all the time because she's a mean sheriff."

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at that one; that was his Lois, alright. "Now when's the last time you played tea party with her?"

The little boy cocked his head to one side in deep thought. "Never…I think."

"And you'd say your Mom's a girl, right?"

He shot his grandfather a quizzical look. "Well duh."

"Jason, you're one lucky little boy and if you have a little sister you'll find you'll be even luckier."

"WHAT?!?!"

The older gentleman suppressed a smile at his grandson's strong reaction. "You see, Jason, your Mom may be a Kent now, but before that she was a Lane, and Lane women are tough; whatever they put their mind to doing they become twice as good as any man at and they also work ten times as hard. Lane women are stronger then any man you'll ever meet, myself included." Jason stared up into the impressive man's face with a look full of shock. "Now with that said, doesn't it stand to reason that any girl born to your mother would be just as tough?"

****

_**Metropolis, **_**January 26, 2017. **"Wow," Haley muttered in a quiet, awed voice. "Grandpa really said all that stuff about _me_? He said I was tough like Mommy?"

Jason nodded his head, sending his dark locks into his face. "Yep, he sure did—and he hadn't even met you yet!" He leaned over and tickled Haley in the ribs, sending her squirming and crying out with laughter. "You see, I was so dead set on having a little brother that I hadn't even considered what having a little sister would be like; it took Grandpa Sam to point it out to me."

"He was really smart," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes he was." The teenager stopped a moment, suppressing his sadness; his 'Grandpa General' had been one of the toughest, smartest men he knew, just like his father and his Uncle Perry. "But do you know what happened next?"

"No, what?" Haley asked breathlessly, hanging on her brother's every word, the missing bear almost forgotten.

"I turned to look down the aisle at all the stuffed animals stacked up against the wall and I saw him, I saw Bobo. He was sitting in the middle of the shelf, next to a lot of other little furry guys—penguins and hippos and giraffes and pigs—but one look at Bobo was all it took because I knew that he'd be the perfect gift for my little brother _or_ sister. So I ran down the aisle to grab him and I held him out to Grandpa Sam, telling him that that was the one I wanted for the baby.

"He smiled at me and ruffled my hair a bit, then we found a nice bag to put him in and a card to sign and we went to the register to pay for everything. The lady behind the counter made sure to wrap him up good and tight because I didn't want anybody else to see what I'd gotten you for your very first birthday; not even Uncle Jimmy, and he tried to peek. In fact, he tried to peek _a lot_."

"He he he…silly Uncle Jimmy!"

"But that isn't even the best part."

She stared up at him, the disbelief evident in her eyes. "It isn't?"

"Nope. The best part was when I got to see you for the first time and give you Bobo myself."

_**To Be Continued…**_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Bear Goes Missing Part 2**

_**Metropolis General Hospital, **_**March 29, 2010, 4:20 pm. **Jason came walking in slowly, followed by his father, clutching the gift bag while staring wide eyed at the new surroundings and all the equipment. Lois smiled even wider at the sight of her firstborn and beckoned him over to the bedside. "Come say hello to your new baby sister…"

He walked over deliberately, peering into the face of his sleeping sibling with great curiosity. After scrutinizing her closely, he said, "Hi Haley, I'm your big brother Jason! You have a pretty name."

Lois looked over at him as he caught her eye and she leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. As she drew back she asked, "So you really like her name, Jason?"

"Uh-huh."

"And you don't mind that she's a girl and not a boy?"

"I guess not," he said matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. "Nana Ella told me we couldn't trade her in with one of the babies in the window and Grandpa Sam explained stuff to me so I guess I don't have much choice." Lois and Clark both let out a soft laugh.

"Son, why don't you climb on top of the bed on the other side of your Mother so we can get a picture? And remember, be gentle just like we talked about, ok?"

He nodded solemnly and made to move around the bed before stopping himself. "I almost forgot! Grandpa helped me get this but I picked it out all by myself for you, Haley. His name is Bobo." He pulled the teddy bear out of the bag and held it in front of her just as she opened her eyes. Lois gasped as she truly registered the depths of their daughters' cerulean orbs; they were almost miniature identicals of her father's and brother's, if only in a lighter shade.

"Oh Clark!" she said softly, in complete and utter awe.

"I know." Their eyes locked in wonderment over their newest miracle while Jason put the toy down on a chair and climbed on top of the hospital bed, placing a hand lightly on his sister's head.

****

_**Metropolis, **_**January 26, 2017. **"You had the bluest eyes anybody on the hospital staff had ever seen…even Uncle Perry couldn't get over them! He kept saying that if they'd been any lighter they'd have been almost invisible. And the first thing you did when I met you was look at my gift to you: Bobo. I think we all knew then that you were destined for each other, just like you were destined to be my sister."

Haley smiled as her heavy eyelids began to droop. "Yeah…"

"You're tougher than you think, Hales, and I know you miss Bobo and wherever he is he misses you too, but you'll be able to make it through the night without him. I know it."

"I…" Her speech was punctuated by a big, open-mouthed yawn. "I suppose."

He got up and leaned over, brushing the unkempt hair off her face and kissing her on the forehead. "Ok, now go to sleep. I'm sure we'll find Bobo in the morning." He was almost to the door when he heard her call out to him once more.

"Jason?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around and fixing her with a questioning gaze.

"You weren't _really_ going to trade me for a boy baby, were you?"

He chuckled under his breath. "Good night."

****

Jason was still puzzling over his geometry homework twenty-five minutes later when the soft thud of a pair of boots caught his attention.

"I thought you'd be home a lot later," he announced by way of greeting. "Things looked pretty bad over there."

Clark walked over and stood between the coffee table and television. "So did I, but most times what people need in a moment of crisis is for a cooler head to prevail—once that happens they tend to calm down and become more rational and better able to help themselves and others." He turned to the television to watch the new footage that had been shot since he'd left Egypt. "All they needed was for someone to show them the way; you'll see for yourself, someday, if you want."

"Yeah, maybe…if I ever pass the tenth grade," Jason replied glibly.

His father peered down at the books laid out on the coffee table. "Geometry again?"

"What else would it be?"

Clark sighed. "I know you're frustrated, but you'll get the hang of this soon—and you'll see it comes in handy too."

The teenager rolled his eyes. "Yeah right, I'm sure you get asked a dozen times a day how to compute the angles of a triangle and figure out the distance from point A to point B."

"No, I don't, but I do need to be able to determine the distance between where I'm standing and where the person standing on the ledge of a burning building is, not to mention I need to know just what angle to be flying at so that I catch them at just the right time. _That_ happens more often than you might think."

"Oh. Right."

The Midwestern man smiled. "Exactly. Now just give me one second and I'll be right back to help." He slipped a hand behind his back and pulled out his daughter's beloved stuffed bear that he'd tucked into his belt. "I overheard you and your sister talking earlier…she forgot all about bringing him to school today for show and tell. Poor little guy was squished way back in the corner of her desk," he announced, picking at the bear's battered countenance as he held it in his hands.

An impertinent smile crossed Jason's face. "You spoil her, you know that?" he teased, mimicking his mother's oft-said phrase.

"Excuse me!" his father scoffed, "But I seem to recall doing the same thing for a certain someone when his beloved Mr. Sky Captain figurine would disappear…and on more than one occasion, I might add."

"But _Dad_, that was different!"

His debate was instantly quelled the moment his father cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh really? How so?" Only then did Jason realize he had no leg to stand on and he let the matter drop.

Clark looked down fondly at the bear in his hands. "I'll never forget the moment you gave him to Haley—your mother and I still have the card around here somewhere. 'To Baby Kent—Happy Birthday! Love, Your Big Brother Jason'." The pair paused, both lost in their own, separate thoughts. "But until tonight I never knew about what your grandfather said to you before she was born. Sam was a good man—I miss him, and I know your mother and you kids do too." All Jason could do was nod in response; all the talk about his late-grandfather that evening was beginning to make him tear up.

"I'm very proud of you, Jason."

He looked up at his father curiously. "For what?"

"No, for showing me what a mature young man you've become. Instead of dismissing your sister you helped her search for Bobo, and instead of leaving her to cry herself to sleep you comforted her. It was very big of you."

Jason blushed profusely. "_Well_…I didn't want her to get angry. I mean, we both know how wonky her heat vision is, and if she 'accidentally' burned down the apartment I knew I'd get blamed."

"You and I both know this was about more than heat vision."

"I know," he replied meekly, embarrassed to look his father in the eye.

Clark strode over to his son and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your mother and I are both very proud of you, and I hope you know how much we love you kids."

"Really? I hadn't a clue…I mean, you guys only tell us about a dozen times a day."

"Ugh, sarcasm!" He put the teenager on the sofa in a headlock and began to use Bobo to ruffle his hair.

"Ahh, Dad, get off me! Ha ha ha…oh man, _stop_!!! Ha ha ha…"

He obeyed. "That'll teach you to talk back to your Old Man," he replied with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. "Now let me just slip this into your sister's room and I'll go change my clothes, then we can tackle your homework together." As he started to walk away he added, "Who knew the tenth grade could be so challenging?"

Jason shook his head at his dad as he exited the room. His heart was light as he turned back to the book before him, knowing that he had done something to make his father—a man who stood in a class unto himself—proud of him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Up and Coming**

_**Daily Planet, Metropolis, **_**June 25, 2018. **_If my parents had been painters or archaeologists or bus drivers_, Jason found himself musing as he rode up in the crowded elevator, _Would I still want to be a journalist?_ _Or would I be following in their footsteps there too? Is it in my blood or is it just _me_? _Somehow he knew deep down inside that he was destined to join the journalistic ranks of the bullpen._ Even if Mom and Dad had been, I don't know, middle school science teachers…_

Six days earlier Jason Kent was finishing up his junior year at Jack Larson High School; today, Jonathan Streete stood with the other college and high school interns preparing to face the bullpen of one of the greatest Metropolitan newspapers in the world. Only a handful in the _Daily Planet_ building knew that Jason and Jonathan were, in fact, one in the same, and that was exactly how he'd wanted it. Now, though, he twitched in excitement beside the other clean-cut, khaki-pressed students eager to get to work, not only because he was going to be entering the bullpen but also because of who he'd see once he got there.

You see, there were two _very _important people on the floor who weren't aware he was coming at all.

The decision to become a journalist wasn't one that had been foisted on him by his parents—quite the contrary, actually, as they initially opposed the idea of his joining the school paper starting back as the ninth grade.

"Jason, are you sure?" his mother asked, voice tinged with concern. He knew that she saw what he was intending to do because she got her own start at her high school paper. "I mean your father and I are flattered that you would want to follow in our footsteps but…"

"But you shouldn't let our jobs—_any _of our jobs—influence your choice of possible careers," his father chimed in. He'd been standing in the living room in full Superman-regalia, just back from a rescue, and the inference wasn't lost on anyone.

It had taken no small amount of smooth-talking on his part just to get them to come around to the idea that joining the high school paper was a good thing. A very good thing, in fact. He didn't feel as though life had _forced_ him to become a reporter. He _wanted _to be a reporter. It was simply a distinction that his parents didn't quite get. Eventually he stopped getting the third degree from his folks about writing for _The Wire_, but that was a while in coming.

What Jason never told them, what he couldn't even accurately explain to them, was that he felt more at home in the school's newsroom then anywhere else. It wasn't only that he was familiar with the ins and outs of a paper either, but just being there lit him up inside. He loved standing in the press room on a Thursday afternoon with his shirtsleeves rolled up, staring over his Editor (and friend) Colleen's shoulder as she reviewed his latest piece, arguing with her over every keystroke and deletion she made. It was the one place on the premises where he didn't have to be shy, unobtrusive Jason Kent like he was in the back corner of every class; here he could shine and was, in fact, expected to shine _because_ of his famous parents.

He just hoped that in time, someday, he might outshine them too.

The summer internship at the _Planet_, however…well that had been a different story. It started off as more of a dare to himself than anything else, printing off the application from the website in late-January, selecting the articles from his three years' worth of work at _The Wire_, paying for a P.O. box so that any potential response wouldn't be sent to the house. And then there was the trouble with his name.

Jason Kent. Too easily recognizable among _Planet_ staff and board members alike. He'd practically grown up in the bullpen, after all. He knew he'd have to be sneaky, yet unlike his father he actually enjoyed the underhandedness of it all. Subterfuge suited him. Jason suspected his own lack of compunction on this point had something to do with his mother.

Which was why the pen name Jonathan Streete seemed like such an appropriate choice; it was subtle enough yet still held a hint of his true identity, daring someone to recognize his pseudonym. Daring his _parents_ to unearth his real identity.

He paced back and forth in front of the mailbox for nearly half an hour on a frigid February morning, the completed application clasped in his hands, debating about whether or not to actually go through with the whole affair. Jason ultimately decided it was a shot in the dark but it was one he was willing to take and after he let it pass through the mail slot he knew there was no going back…well there was, if he wanted to strong arm the lock and snatch it back, but he was 85 percent sure he didn't want to do that.

No, 95 percent sure.

Maybe.

The wait between submission and acceptance or rejection seemed interminable, and he struggled daily not to call attention to himself unduly lest his parents sense something was up. For weeks he went about his life as normally as he could, lingering now and again around the rented post office box and resisting the urge to ask his Uncle Perry for his verdict. It wasn't until two months later, in mid-April and right around his father's birthday, that he got the envelope with the _Planet_ logo. Jason stood in the middle of the floor with it in his hands, the box still open with the key in the lock, and his face fell. The letter was thin—too thin to be anything but disappointing news.

He opened the missive anyway just to be sure and was surprised at what he found.

_Dear Jonathan Streete,_

_Congratulations! You have been selected as one of the Daily Planet's four high school interns for the 2018 year._

The letter was personally signed by his Uncle Perry—he would have recognized that slanted scrawl anywhere—and didn't contain a trace of familiarity whatsoever.

Jason had gotten his internship. He'd gotten the spot on his own merits and was well on his way to spending the summer learning side-by-side from the some of the best journalists in the business.

His next hurdle to overcome was confronting his Uncle Perry.

It took him an additional three weeks to screw up enough courage to confront the Editor-in-Chief, who was an imposing figure whether you were related to him or not. Jason let himself into the office quietly, adopting an air of confidence he didn't fully yet possess, for although the spot had already been given to him he knew his Uncle still had the power to revoke it once this new information came to light.

The conversation was encouraging, if anything. Perry even remembered one of the articles that had been submitted with his application, and his had been one of hundreds—possibly even thousands.

"So why tell me now?" the old newshound asked after handing back the acceptance letter.

It was a good question, and one that Jason had come prepared to answer. "Because I knew I couldn't get away with walking through those doors with the rest of the interns next month and _not_ be recognized by the staff here; because I knew you'd come under scrutiny for hiring me and I wanted to give you a chance to talk to the higher-ups and clear yourself so that you weren't accused of favoritism; and because I wanted to see if you _would_ have hired Jason Kent over Jonathan Streete without checking my credentials just because I'm your nephew and son of two of your star reporters."

Uncle Perry smiled at that. "Something tells me you're not planning on telling your folks about this either…am I right?"

An impish smile crossed his face and his cheeks flushed as he turned away. It was all the answer he had to give on that score.

Jason also let his Uncle Jim in on the joke, if only to document the moment of truth when he stepped out of those elevators. The photographer was a ready and willing accomplice and nearly bust a gut laughing when he heard what his nephew had in store.

"I can't believe we're going to pull one over on your Dad, Jace," he said, draping his arm over the boys shoulder even though he stood a good five inches taller than him. "And your Mom too! Boy will she be pissed when she finds out I was in the know before her…but it'll be worth it! This is one close-up I'm not going to want to miss!"

And now the time had come, the first day of his internship, and he strained his hearing to the periphery to catch his parents' voices over the din. He could already hear half the journalists hovering eagerly around the elevator bay, waiting to catch a glimpse of the next generation—or, as some of the more lewd among them liked to refer to as 'fresh meat'.

"Now Lois," he heard his father's voice call out, clear as bell, "Remember to play nice. These kids are too young to be scarred for life…"

"Ha ha ha, very funny, Farm Boy, now make way so I can get this paperwork off my desk and onto yours."

"I wasn't trying to be funny, Lo, or have you already forgotten what happened with Julian last year?"

"Clark!" Jason smiled to himself; he could almost perfectly picture his mother's pout. "He was three hours late for deadline on his FIRST DAY! As future Editor-in-Chief I had every right to get upset with him…"

"Yes, and remember how foolish you felt afterward when I reminded you that _you _were the one who gave him the incorrect deadline." A moment's pause passed between them. Jason suspected that one or more of their more meaningful looks were being transmitted, ones that spoke volumes more then words could ever do. She sighed, and Jason knew his assumption was right. "Just remember to treat these kids like you would our own," his father continued much more quietly. "Would you really want someone to bite Jason or Haley's head off over a missed deadline?"

"Of course not, but our kids would never miss…"

"_Lois_…"

"I'll try," she replied, not even attempting to sound sincere.

"Good, because here they co…" but his father's voice was cut off as the doors opened and their mentor led them out into the bullpen. All ten of them—six from colleges across the country, four from high schools as equally spread out—stepped out of the cabin en masse. Nearly all tried to puff themselves out and try and look as though they belonged, as if they were older than their years. Jason stayed close to the back, ducking his head; his father _had_ to have heard him coming by now, and nearly every other journalist present would recognize him just as easily. He just wanted his folks to be the first…

"Jason!"

Their simultaneous cry carried made the heads of every other journalist and photographer swivel around in their direction. A camera shutter also heard clicking away at the same time, and Jason could hear his Uncle's heartfelt chuckle as each image was captured. Jason stood up, tall and proud, and squared his shoulders for what was to come.

"Hey Kent," Ralph called out from among the throng, "What do you think _you're_ doing here, sneaking in with the interns?"

He swallowed hard. "I'm not sneaking in anywhere, Ralph. I _am_ an intern."

"Hey Johnny." It was Brian, another high school intern like him and one he'd made fast friends with during orientation. "Why are they calling you Jason? They act as if they already know you or something…"

"Funny you should say that…"

One of the girls in front of them turned around slowly to look at him, her brown eyes wide with surprise. "They called you Jason _Kent_…" Recognition dawned as she spoke and the girl squealed, actually squealed. "Oh my God, you're Lois Lane's and Clark Kent's son! OH MY GOD!!!" Her attention and high pitched screeching made him wince.

"Guilty," he replied, blushing profusely.

"Alright, alright, break it up," Perry's voice cut through the screeching. The other reporters stepped back, giving him a clear line with which to charge through the bullpen. His mother, never one for surprises, was hot on his Uncle's heels while his father lingered near the back of the semi-circle.

Before the Chief could get a word in edgewise, Lois bounded over to him and proceeded to chew him out in front of the entire office. She looked so small standing in front of him like that with one hand on her hip, the other balled up into a fist and pointing angrily at his face, that it would have been almost comical were everyone not watching them. Jason felt the flush of embarrassment now spread all the way from his cheeks to his ears.

"Jason Samuel Kent I can't **believe** you thought you'd cheat your way into the intern program like this! And to rook Perry into your little scam too, I've never been so ashamed in my life! Your father and I raised you better then that and if you think you're going to get away with this farce then so help me I will ground you for the entire summer…!!!"

"He didn't cheat his way in, Lois," Perry said gruffly but firmly from behind her, and loud enough for the entire room to hear.

"He—what?"

"He didn't cheat. He sent in an application along with his credentials just like everyone else and earned his place here; the kid even went so far as to apply under an assumed name so that I couldn't be accused of nepotism." Perry waited a beat, then added, "Sound like anybody else I know?"

"Well…how…huh?" The wind being entirely knocked out of her sails, his mom took a step back and dropped her hands to her sides, waiting for the shock to wear off so she could form a coherent sentence. "Ok Old Man, then tell me this; if Jason applied under an assumed name, how come you're not as surprised as I am to see him here?"

His Uncle smirked. "Easy; he told me all about it about a month back, not long after he got his acceptance letter. He was _trying_ to avoid a scene, but I think shocking the hell out of you in the middle of your own bullpen was too good an opportunity for him to pass up." He winked conspiratorially at his nephew as Jason stifled a chuckle.

"Oh." Something clicked inside and she cried out, "He told you a MONTH AGO?!?!"

By now his father had made his way through the throng and stood wordlessly in front of him, forcing Jason to meet his gaze. He did so while still trying desperately to stamp down the blush in his cheeks from being the source of attention of the entire room. "I understand," his father said, after a long moment's silence.

"Really?"

"Yes—you wanted to get here under your own merit, no undue influence affecting anyone's decision. You wanted to be taken seriously as a journalist and not just as the son of two journalists." His father waited a moment before adding, "And, no doubt, you were also going for the shock factor."

Another sheepish grin was all he could give in answer.

"Well done. Welcome aboard, Son." His father smiled and clasped his hand in a manly embrace, pulling Jason in for a hug.

"Oh man, you guys really ought to see this picture," Jim called out, holding the digital camera aloft as he made his way to them.

"Not now, Jim." His mother was eying him in an unsettling way; it reminded Jason of a tiger making eye contact with it's prey. "Yes, welcome aboard," she said to him in a sugary-sweet voice. "Now go get me my coffee, Kent—black, two sugars, no cream. And you've got eight weeks of this coming to you, too. Don't think you're going to be getting any special treatment from me."

Jason's hearty laugh said it all. "No Ma'am, no special treatment whatsoever from you, Ms. Lane-Kent." She swatted his shoulder playfully as he broke away from the pack, moving with bolstered confidence toward the kitchen to retrieve his mother's coffee while leaving a roomful of slack-jawed journalists and interns in his wake.

He heard his mother continue to hold court as he trotted off. "As for the rest of you…you all want to work here at the _Planet_? Then you've got to want it bad—you've got to want it more then anything else in the world. You've got to work hard, and work from the ground up, no cutting corners. Coffee runs, photocopying, late-night research…if somebody in this bullpen so much as tells you to jump, I want to hear you ask 'How high?' It isn't glamorous but if it were it wouldn't be worth it..."

Oh yes, it was _definitely_ going to be an interesting summer.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Alright folks, this is the last one! Don't worry, I'm working on story #4, "A Most Precious Gift", even as we speak. Thank you so much for all the reviews (I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to as many as I would've liked ) and I hope you'll check back in a couple weeks for the next installment. Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

**Big Changes**

_**Smallville, Kansas, **_**July 22, 2018. **"I'm glad you were able to stop in for dinner, Son." Martha shuffled back from the counter with a plate in her weathered hands as she spoke, taking in the image of Clark as he sat at the table. Her son was dressed in an old, red, flannel shirt and well-worn jeans, looking every inch as if he'd just stepped in from the fields instead of just flying in from half-way across the country. "We won't have very many more of these here soon, you know."

He nodded solemnly, and she followed his gaze as he stared at the front wall of the house. Martha suspected he was even now peeling back the layers of wallpaper, wood and plaster to reveal the bold red and white SOLD sign sitting on the front lawn. She and Lois had spent countless hours trying to convince him to let her sell the farm, and it was no small feat that saw them packing up the old homestead now.

Martha and her daughter-in-law had tried every argument they could think of and then some to get Clark to come around. It would be better for him if she lived with them in the City, they had both argued, that way he wouldn't have to worry about her being in the farmhouse all alone 2,000 miles away. She'd be able to get the best medical care in Metropolis, they reasoned, better then what the facilities in Smallville had to offer should she ever need it. And, most importantly, she'd be able to spend even _more_ time with Jason and Haley.

But it was a quiet moment spent alone in their living room in Metropolis that Martha was finally able to convince Clark that selling the farm was the right thing to do. "Clark, these fields were never meant to be a burden. They were meant for a family to live off of and tend to and share. And this house? This house was meant for a young family so that they could grow up and make their own happy memories here. You, me, your father, we had our time here and those were good years; now it's time for somebody else to have that chance. It's time for us to let go."

Eventually they found a buyer in a young man named Michael Foley, and he, his wife and son were due to move-in in six weeks time, shortly before their new baby was to be born. The only problem with the arrangement was that Clark continued to second-guess his decision, which was how he found himself invited to dinner at the family home that evening where he sat dejectedly pushing the mashed potatoes around on his plate.

"It's going to be alright," she said, attempting to break him out of his reverie. "You'll see. This is how things are supposed to be."

"I know," he replied sullenly.

"But?"

"But I still feel like I'm letting Dad down. This farm has been in the family for four generations! Great-great grandfather Joseph built it up from practically nothing and now I'm…"

"Now you're nothing," she stopped him suddenly, sounding more stern then she'd intended. "You're your own man, Clark, and your life and your family's lives are in Metropolis. And pretty soon I will be too," she finished, smiling sweetly. "Nobody on the other side will be disappointed in the decisions we've made."

"You don't know that," he muttered before stuffing a bite of potatoes in his mouth. Martha shot him a warning look and he swallowed hard before admitting, "I guess you're right."

"Of course I am, I'm your mother. Which brings me to a little something else I wanted to talk to you about."

He groaned and dropped the fork with a clatter, his hands gripping either side of his head. "Now I _know_ I'm not going to like this."

"Oh hush, you're acting like a child. It isn't that bad." Clark quirked an eyebrow at her but said nothing as she tore the roll in her hands in half. "You know why I'm moving to Metropolis, right? I don't want to be a burden to you, and even with your gifts I know you worry about what might happen to me out here all by myself. Heck, I worry too. You can get here plenty fast, Son, but you've got a lot of other obligations and you don't need to be distracted by little old me."

"Mom, you're not a distraction! You're never a distraction, you know that…"

She held up a hand to stop him. "Wait, please, let me finish. I'm trying to tell you that I'm moving to Metropolis to be closer to you and Lois and the kids, and I know we've all talked about my moving in with you, but I've decided that that just won't do. So I've put down a deposit on a room at a place called Pinehurst, over on Bloomfield Ave in the City. It's not far from your place so I can stop by whenever you want or need me, but living at Pinehurst will still allow me to keep my independence—and it'll give us all a little piece of mind."

_There, I've said it_, she remarked to herself, a proud smirk on her face.

Clark sat in stunned silence for several minutes, as his mother had expected he would, but when a full five minutes went by and he still didn't speak she began to worry.

She didn't have to wait much longer to find out what was going through his head. "No," he said simply, finally, and sounding very much like his super-alter-ego.

"No?"

"Pinehurst isn't just another apartment building, Mom—it's an _assisted living facility_." He said the last part with such derision in his voice that it made even Martha cringe, when before she was rather looking forward to moving into her new place. "You deserve better then that and I won't let you move there, not when Lois and I are able and willing to help take care—I mean _look out_ for you. You can be as independent as you want to be under our roof. I'm sorry you're losing your deposit but I won't let you move in there."

Martha pinched her lips in hard, angry line, and narrowed her eyes at her grown son. Other children would be only so happy to see their parent live out their golden years on a golf course in Florida as far from them as possible; only her child would fight over her decision _not_ to move in with them. What Clark was also oblivious to was the fact that his wife had been a sounding board of sorts for Martha, and Lois seconded her mother-in-law's decision to move into Pinehurst; not because she didn't love Martha or want her to live with them, but because it was exactly the kind of move Lois saw herself making in another thirty or forty years. The pair of them were both fiercely independent women, stubbornly so, and neither one wanted to be a burden on anybody's shoulders, least of all their children's.

"You may be immovable, Clark, but so am I. You're not going to get me to change my mind. In six weeks time I'll be moving into Pinehurst whether you like it or not."

She could see the veins bulging in his arms as he flexed his muscles in quiet anger before he stood up abruptly from the table and moved to the sink, his back turned to her. Her hearing may have been going but she thought she caught the distinct crack of one of the faucet handles snapping off.

"You're impossible, you know that?" he asked sullenly.

A small smile crept over her face. "I've heard that said a time or two before, yes. Your father especially liked to remind me how stubborn I was. Seems to me I may have passed that trait along to someone else…"

That set him off muttering at the sink. "You and your grandson both…nobody tells me anything anymore…too many surprises all at once…"

She cupped her hand to her ear, pretending not to hear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Turning around to face her again, and in a much louder voice, he said, "How come nobody tells me anything anymore? This is too many big changes all at once." He stopped and thought a moment, what about she could only guess. "Am I so involved in my work that I'm missing everything to do with everyone I care about? Am I so busy helping the world that I'm neglecting my family?" Martha let loose a sigh, knowing it would come to this and wishing her only boy weren't so hard on himself all the time. Turning around to face her, he asked, "Is that why you're moving to Pinehurst, because you think I'll be too preoccupied by other things to look out for you?"

The quite desperation in her son's voice softened her resolve to the point where she soon felt the tears coming on. Wanting to ease his inner torment, she rose up from her chair and shuffled across the floor to embrace him in a reassuring hug. She knew this move would be hard on both of them, him most of all, but she hadn't meant to bring on more pain. If anything, she had wanted to ease his anxieties rather then play up on his greatest fears.

"This is what I want, Clark," she whispered, knowing it wouldn't be hard for him to hear. "And I'm sorry this is so upsetting to you, I really am, but deep down inside we both know that it's the right move for me to make. I love you so much, and you haven't said or done anything to make me think I wasn't welcome in your home, but I think that if I came to live with you we'd all resent it sooner or later. You and Lois are both so wonderful to invite me to move-in in the first place, and you're the best son a mother could ever hope for—and don't you ever doubt that, not for one second.

"But my decision to move to Pinehurst has very little to do with you and everything to do with me." She held him tighter, the man of forty-four still needing just as much comfort and support from her as he did when he was just a boy of five, and Martha waited patiently for him to absorb this latest bombshell that she'd gone and dropped into his lap.

She finally felt his grip tighten as he really and truly hugged her back. "You know I love you too, Mom. I just don't want this decision to be another sacrifice you feel you have to make on my account."

"Sacrifice?" she scoffed, wiping a tear from her eye. "Son, I plan on living it up in Pinehurst, City-style!"

The laughter rippled through him and his rib cage shook, while his deep, booming cackle rocked the very walls of the old farmhouse. Martha pulled back a ways and looked up into his handsome face, tears of mirth continuing to brim in her eyes. Even if he lived to be 110 her son would never know how much he meant to her or how much she would sacrifice all for his sake. Being a mother was all she'd ever dreamed of once she met Jonathan, and after so many years of heartache to have him delivered into their laps as if in answer to their very prayers—words could never express her gratitude for that.

Clark let loose an over-dramatic groan. "Oh God, I can picture it now…you're going to be keeping me busier in Metropolis then you ever did out here in Smallville. I'll be in the cape more then ever trying to keep you _and _Lois out of trouble!"

Now it was her turn for a laugh, and she reached a hand up to bring his forehead down to her lips for a kiss. "All part of my plan, you see? Everything's going to work out just fine."

"Yes," he replied, growing serious again. "But Mom, do you think you can promise me one thing?" Martha knew that trap. She eyed him suspiciously, not agreeing to anything until she knew what it was. "Can you promise me that next time you make a decision that's this big, we'll at least talk about it first? Please? You know I only want what's best for you."

What could a mother say to that? Nothing, without choking up. And so she simply nodded her head in agreement before pulling him close once again, even more grateful to have had the privilege of raising Clark as her son.

**THE END**


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